Tukaram, Poem 1143

Just beyond us we see that purple lustre—how glorious! with His noble crown of peacock feathers stitched together. As you look upon Him, fever and illusion vanish; adore then the prince of the Yadavas, the Lord of Yogis. He who filled with passion the sixteen thousand, royal damsels, fair creatures, divine maidens, he stands upon the bank with the Lustre of a million moons; it is fastened in jewels on His neck and merges in the Lustre of His form. This God who bears the wheel is the chief of the Yadavas; Him the thirty-three crores of gods adore; the demons tremble before Him; His dark blue countenance destroys sin. How fair are his feet with saffron stained! How fortunate is the brick that is grasped by his feet! The very thought of Him makes fire cool, therefore embrace Him with experience of your own. The sages, as they see His face, contemplate Him in the spirit; the father of the world stands before them in bodily shape. Tuka is frenzied after Him; His purple form ravishes the mind.